


Infinite 8

by lindmere



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 15:03:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindmere/pseuds/lindmere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lt. Masters uses her technical skills to help Jim overcome McCoy's aviaphobia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infinite 8

"Out of all the asinine things we've ever done, this has got to be the most royally idiotic." McCoy's invective is belied by his tone of voice, which is gravelly and faint. His lips are pale and his ears are red, a reversal of the normal order of things, and he's gripping the upper deck balustrade as if he's about to fall over.

This, Charlene does not mention, will not help.

"The Korbia Infinite 8 a well-tested maneuver and Lt. Masters practically wrote the book on it," the captain says, looking at his PADD and not McCoy. They've got a little less than 5 minutes to get inside the planet's troposphere before the next magnetic storm. Luckily, the captain is a good multi-tasker and can lock in the flight plan, initiate a countdown, and indulge his CMO's phobias, all at the same time.

"It's actually much safer than a routine entry, doctor," Charlene says, "even under normal circumstances." The captain flicks a grateful glance at her. "By minimizing our profile and our exposure time, we reduce the ablation of--"

"It's a god-damn nosedive is what it is," McCoy says, going even paler. "When I see that planet rushing toward us at--" Charlene sees Chekov eye the nearest waste receptacle, ready to lunge for it if the doctor needs it.

"So--don't look," Charlene says. "Sir."

Curiously, this seems to work. McCoy cocks his head, thinks about it for a moment, and then slides into one of the vacant comm chairs, which he swivels in the opposite direction from the viewscreen. Charlene is reminded of her three-year-old nephew, who thinks that it won't be bedtime as long as he doesn't look at the clock.

A minute later, the audible countdown begins. The    
_Enterprise_   
 hurtles silently toward Karan Beta at near-warp and executes a momentum-dispelling figure-8 just below the ionosphere, minimizing the effect of the magnetic storm while avoiding a hard entry into the atmosphere. A perfect coordination of thrusters, an exquisitely calibrated firing sequence, and the great ship is as nimble as a hawk coasting on the updrafts on a cloudless day.

Following Mr. Spock's example, Charlene says nothing as the ship alights above its target, ready to beam down the landing party. It is, after all, exactly the outcome they planned for and expected, nothing more.

After a suitable interval she glances up at McCoy, who's slumped forward with his elbows on his knees, breathing hard. Then she looks at the captain, who's looking back at her with one of those effervescent, childlike smiles that make him look exactly 26 years old and no more. What can she do but smile back?

"That," he says, "was    
_awesome_   
."

+++++

"But when you humor him, it just reinforces the behavior. He's getting the reaction he wants from you." She's waited through most of the meal to broach the subject;    
_your boyfriend is neurotic_   
 isn't the sort of thing you just drop on someone, let alone the captain.

"He can't help it," Jim says, poking his plate of lukewarm    
_lah'tem_   
 with his fork. "And he gets through it in the end, so what does it matter?"

"It makes him miserable. It distracts you." She places her hand on his to stop his fidgeting and make him look at her. "And it gets worse every time, because his brain remembers the fear, not the fact that he didn't die."

"You're a psychologist as well as an engineer, huh?" They've been learning a lot about each other, these past few weeks, but he hasn't learned yet that Charlene doesn't really fit in the mold of Scotty's bluff, hardware-obsessed roustabouts.

"I like understanding how things work. Including the human mind."

"Just one of the human organs you seem to know a lot about," Jim says with his now-familiar false innocence.

"I'm serious," she says. "You're no friend if you let this go on."

"So what do you suggest, Dr. Masters?"

"Positive reinforcement. Break the association with negative stimuli."

"So, what?" Jim picks up the institutional excuse for a chocolate chip cookie on his dessert plate. "Toss him a biscuit every time we leave atmosphere?"

"Not the reward I had in mind." He's quick; she doesn't have to let her eyebrow do the talking.

The grin that spreads across his face would melt butter.

+++++

Charlene enjoys having multiple partners because it's    
_active_   
, because the possibilities are multiple and because there's the arrangement of bodies in motion to consider.

Now, for example, Jim is busy between Leonard's thighs, running his lips over tender skin, lightly grazing his balls no more than every third or fourth pass, keeping Leonard guessing about when he'll next get stimulation. Charlene is enjoying his chest, running her palms over his pectorals, playing with his nipples as he arches and moans. The doctor's body is spectacular, and she's relieved that it's fulfilled the promise of one of the most-scrutinized uniforms on the ship.

At the foot of the bed, where Leonard can see it, is the captain's large vid screen, playing a montage of the Federation's greatest aerial maneuvers. She knows all of them by name; this one, just beginning, is the Lucasian Triple Roll.

"Stop," she says to Jim, and then, to Leonard, "Watch."

This is fourth time through, so he obeys her, watching the Bridge-view of the spiraling starship. The stars spin and Leonard moans, not from pleasure this time.

In response, she brushes her breast against he side of his face, He turns his head, mouthing her nipple, and the sight of those lips against it almost make her lose her concentration.

Almost. The screen goes black again.

At her nod, Jim wraps his lips around the head of Leonard's cock and begins to suck, gently, eyes fluttering half closed. It's very, very pretty, almost as pretty as what's taking place on the screen.

"Look," she says, "Pugachev's Cobra. What are we going to do for that?"

Jim catches her eye and laughs as well as he can with a mouth very full of cock and arches his back, sinuous as a snake. Charlene knows that the permutations of three bodies aren't infinite, but they don't have to be. Judging by the flush on Leonard's face, the way the corners of his mouth curve up, they're more than enough.


End file.
